


bittersweet (tastes good on you)

by fayre



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, comfort kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 18:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayre/pseuds/fayre
Summary: From: He Tian ― Today, 7:03PMI need you.To: He Tian ― Today, 7:05PMwhat?hello??wtf is going on???(or: he tian meets a face from his past, and while hot chocolate can't solve all their problems, guan shan hopes it'll at least be a start.)





	bittersweet (tastes good on you)

He almost steps on it when he walks in.

It’s an attack he wasn’t expecting. Guan Shan nearly trips over himself as he avoids crushing it beneath his boots, and when he catches himself on the wall for balance, the door’s slam echoes in the silence as his assailant faces him, fearless.

“What the fuck,” Guan Shan says, breath labored, eyes wide, “is _that?”_

He’s not even five steps inside the apartment. His orange scarf hangs loosely around his neck, unraveled after his sprint up the stairs because the elevator was taking _too damn long,_ and the dangling end of it seems to be the perfect subject for attention.

Swatting paws and floppy ears and a slobbering mouth and a wildly wagging tail attacks it with unbounded energy, excited panting mixed with guttural growls, and Guan Shan―

stares.

“He Tian,” he says, low, because the man in question has appeared around the corner with crossed arms and a grim expression, “what _is this?”_

He Tian’s jaw sets. “It’s a dog.”

 _“Obviously,_ you fucking―”

“It’s Cheng’s doing,” He Tian says and Guan Shan immediately shuts his mouth. The words sound like liquid venom, spat and seeping into the spaces between them. Embedding itself into every syllable.

Oblivious, the dog grows bored of the scarf and instead gets to sniffing Guan Shan’s boots, licking away the remnants of melted snow. Guan Shan can only watch.

“Your brother ― _your_ brother, He Cheng ― gave you this?” he asks, somewhere between disbelief and incredulity. “I thought he doesn’t do charity work.”

“He doesn’t,” He Tian grits. “And I didn’t fucking ask for it, either.”

A popped brow. “Then why the hell do you have it? Is it Cheng’s?”

He Tian shakes his head, lips pressed. “No. He wouldn’t— he hates animals. But it was here when I came back, and I called Cheng because I fucking _knew_ this is the shit he’d pull _,_ and now it’s—“

His words die abruptly. Looking up from where the dog tugs on his shoelaces, Guan Shan is taken aback by the stiff, tensed state of He Tian’s body. The man looks downright disgusted, if not pissed, by the golden ball of fur in the middle of his entry hall; too big to be a puppy but too small to make any impact on Guan Shan’s balance as it jumps up to nip at the scarf once more.

And, on a surface level, Guan Shan doesn’t understand. He rarely does when it comes to He Tian. Of course, the tension between the He brothers is nothing new to him — though, it did take several months for him to piece together what little information He Tian gave him — and of course, coming home to a dog you’ve never seen before is a little overwhelming even for someone as unshakeable as He Tian. But the shadowed look on He Tian's face, the hard glare in his eyes, the tight clench of his jaw is, well, _unprecedented_ for something that paws helplessly at the hem of Guan Shan’s coat, head tilted as it waits for attention, one ear flipped over to expose its pink underside.

It's a reality that Guan Shan needs to wrap his head around. 

 _I need you,_ He Tian had texted, and he never texts shit like that without following up with a joke or a tease meant to rub Guan Shan’s nerves raw and rush blood to his ears. But there wasn’t a second text, and there wasn’t a reply when Guan Shan asked him what the fuck was going on. And so the redhead had told his mom to save him some leftovers before catching the nearest taxi. He thought, god forbid, it was important.

But _this?_ A dog?

Guan Shan can’t help the confused furrow in his brow.

“And?” he asks. “Why the hell am I here, then? I thought you were fuckin’ dying."

He Tian’s throat works, and he says, “I need you to take it.”

Guan Shan’s not sure he heard him right.

“What?”

“Take it,” He Tian says again, hard. “I can’t have it here.”

“You— I can’t _take_ it,” Guan Shan says, incredulous. Off guard. “I don’t— You _know_ where I live. My ma and I barely fit, plus there’s no fucking way we can afford—“

“Then sell it. Give it away. Put it up for adoption. I don’t care. Just — take it.”

He Tian turns and walks away. The aura he emits is dangerous. Guan Shan stares at where he disappears around the corner, and then his eyes slide down to watch the dog bound after him, nails clicking against the hardwood floor as it slips and slides along.

Shrugging out of his coat and stepping out of his shoes, Guan Shan follows.

When he turns the corner He Tian is sitting on his bed, leaned back against the wall, expression unreadable as he scrolls through his phone. The dog sniffs at something under the bed, tail swishing back and forth. He Tian doesn’t try to stop it. But the complete lack of care in He Tian’s actions is obviously anything _but_ that, and it’s unsettling at best. To a certain degree, Guan Shan refuses to believe that He Tian has chosen the _If I can’t see it then it doesn’t exist_ route. He Tian has been and always will be nothing but direct action and overbearing persistence.

“If you want to get rid of it,” Guan Shan starts, “then _you_ get rid of it. This has nothing to do with me.”

He Tian doesn’t look up. His face is eerily blank. “I don’t know where to put it.”

He almost tells He Tian to just _give it back_ to his brother, but thinks better of it. “You have a damn phone. You can find the nearest shelter.”

“I don’t have time.”

Guan Shan feels delirious. “And you think _I_ do?”

He Tian glances up at him. Looks back down. “I think you had enough time to come over when I texted.”

It’s unnecessarily sharp. Hard. Guan Shan’s teeth clench. “I thought something was _wrong,_ you asshole. I thought you were being fucking serious for once in your life.”

 _I thought you needed me for something more than the shit we’ve done —_ used _each other for — in the past._

There’s a beat. And then He Tian looks up at him again, the soft yellow glow of the lamp casting sharp shadows over his face. The dark expression sends something cold up Guan Shan’s spine.

“I am serious, Guan Shan,” he says. Frigid. “Take it.”

But Guan Shan only walks closer; shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand.”

“No, I do,” Guan Shan snaps. “I do. You never call me for shit like this, He Tian. And you never — _act_ like this. You’re acting — well, you’re acting fucking heartless and that’s not a fuckin’ surprise but christ, it’s just a _dog.”_

Something flickers across He Tian’s face, but it disappears as quickly as it came, and he says, “I don’t fucking want it. End of story.”

“Fine, I _get_ that,” Guan Shan grits, irritation bubbling at the surface. “But why the hell are you acting so _hostile?_ And to _me_ , to fucking boot? You’re the one who called me here, asking for a shit favor, and you won’t even bother to tell me _why?”_

It’s a frigid night. The city, never at rest, rumbles with sounds of cars and faint music accompanied by flecks of flashing lights beneath them, outside the window. Alive, but muted. He Tian locks his phone, throwing it further down the bed, and faces the black expanse of sky beyond the glass.

“Then leave,” he says, blunt and flat and chilled like an abandoned lake frozen in the winter, and Guan Shan feels it like ice in his lungs. Feels the stalled state of his mind because, despite everything, this isn’t right. This isn’t He Tian’s sly smiles and pulled back shoulders and eyes that glitter with mischief. This isn’t He Tian not knowing the answer but answering nonetheless, certain in his ability to bullshit his way through, and everyone else believes him because it just seems right. This isn’t He Tian teasing him, dragging him, getting them into shit that no one else would be able to get out of but He Tian can because he’s _He Tian._

No, this isn’t that. This is midnight in his eyes, tension in the muscles of his throat, a glazed over existence as the dog crawls beneath the bed, tail thumping loudly against the frame, and He Tian doesn’t even seem to notice. In his mind, Guan Shan has already left.

And so Guan Shan turns on his heel.

The coffee machine sounds a quiet jingle when he turns it on, rumbling to life as the water is heated. He Tian doesn’t say anything, but the music seems to attract the other guest. Guan Shan hears the clicking and clacking of approaching paws and then there’s a warm, fuzzy body sitting on his toes as he reaches into the cupboards.

He Tian is out of tea. Or rather, Guan Shan hasn’t gone grocery shopping with him in a good few weeks. With He Tian in school and Guan Shan bouncing between available work, their schedules rarely match up. And so he grabs two packets from the box of hot chocolate pushed to the back of the cabinet, filling the mugs with hot water and dumping in the powder.

Below him, the dog watches with bright eyes.

Just out of curiosity, Guan Shan glances down at it. Looks lower.

It’s a girl.

Setting the spoon he used to stir the cups in the sink, Guan Shan takes the mugs in his hands and walks back.

He Tian, frozen where Guan Shan had left him, doesn’t move as the latter approaches.

“Here,” Guan Shan says.

A moment passes. And then He Tian’s eyes slide to look at the proffered mug. Watches the wisps of steam rise and dissipate. His gaze is flat.

“I’m not—“

“Fucking _take_ it, He Tian,” Guan Shan snaps. The hot chocolate sloshes in the mugs. “You’re being a fuckin’ asshole and you need to put something in your body because you look like the living dead, and right now, this is the best you have. This is the best _I_ have. Take it.”

Their eyes lock. Guan Shan doesn’t yield.

He Tian takes it.

He wraps his fingers around the handle and brings it down to his lap. The scent of the rich, deep chocolate hangs between them, and the bed squeaks as Guan Shan sits on the edge of it. He watches the dog sniff around the kitchen floor. Considers his words before he puts them into existence.

“I’m not going to be responsible,” Guan Shan says into the silence. “I don’t know what the hell crawled up He Cheng’s ass, but he’s the one you need to talk to. Not me.”

There isn’t a response. He Tian brings the mug up to his lips. Guan Shan cups his own in his hands, feeling the warmth pressed against his palms.

“I won’t,” he starts again, and then stops, and then continues, “I won’t be able to help you if you don’t— don’t tell me, He Tian. I know you have something against me knowing shit which, fine, I get it. I’m the same way. But you’re being… like you always are. Closed off. And I can’t help you. Not like this.”

When He Tian speaks, his voice is a rumble. “It’s a dog, Guan Shan. I just don’t want it.”

“Obviously it’s more than that,” Guan Shan replies, sharp. “Did He Cheng tell you something? Why would he even do this in the first damn place?”

He Tian shakes his head. His throat works. “He — I don’t know why, either.”

It’s the truth. He can tell by the stutter, the lag in He Tian’s voice as the words process between them. And there’s not vulnerability — there never is with He Tian — but there’s depth. There’s something brittle. Guan Shan weighs it in his hand, and then he swallows a warm mouthful of chocolate.

After a moment, he asks, “Are you going to ask him?”

“No.”

“Don't you want to know?”

“No.”

Guan Shan scowls. “What, so you’re just going to throw the dog out of your place and never even _mention_ it to him?”

“Either way,” He Tian says and it’s pushed through his teeth, barely contained, “I’m not fucking talking to him again.”

It sinks between them. The emotion in it is visceral; Guan Shan can’t remember the last time He Tian had truly been tipped over the edge, save for the last few instances in which they’d encountered She Li in middle school. And their fights, though intense and often ending with Guan Shan’s throat feeling sore and his hands trembling from the _restraint_ he had from just knocking some _sense_ into He Tian’s thick head, never escalate to the point of no return no matter what Guan Shan may think in the heat of the moment. Because they always know where to stop and where to begin again. They always know the pull after enduring radio silence for weeks on end, and how they come back together like moths to a light. How they end up in He Tian’s bed, and Guan Shan is grateful for the dark as He Tian presses his lips to his freckles, his eyelids.

There’s never an apology. There’s never resolution. And, slowly, Guan Shan is starting to realize that the consequences might be rearing their heads in the silent, empty moments like this one.

Guan Shan swallows another mouthful and sets the mug down on the nightstand.

“I’ll come with you to talk to He Cheng,” he says to the side of He Tian’s head as He Tian watches something beyond the glare of the window. “You can't _not_ address this. But even if you don't want to do that right now, I'll help you put her in adoption. You're not just going to toss her out on the street. And I’m not going to do it all for you.”

There’s a twitch in He Tian’s face.

“And if I don’t go?” he asks. Guan Shan only frowns. His second year of college, and He Tian still acts like a child.

“Then she stays here.”

There’s an emptiness to his voice — resolve — and He Tian looks grim as he refuses to make eye contact. Across the room, Guan Shan can hear the quiet, whistled yawn of the dog, and the night settles in. He Tian seems captured in it. Absorbed.

Guan Shan moves up, and reaches over. Touches He Tian’s jaw; puts his fingers under his chin and pulls his eyes back to his own. His hand slides to the back of He Tian’s neck, skin warm, and He Tian looks at him. Those dark eyes are weighted yet wavering, and Guan Shan searches his face.

“Let me help you, asshole,” he mutters. “Stop acting like tough shit, and let me help you.”

“That’s rich, coming from you, Red,” He Tian breathes, gaze flickering to his lips.

And Guan Shan scowls, a rebuttal forming on his tongue — but then He Tian is setting his mug next to Guan Shan’s on the nightstand, his eyes traveling the length of Guan Shan’s face, but he doesn’t move otherwise. And Guan Shan knows what he wants. Knows there’s a promise of something sweeter than the smell of dark chocolate between them. Knows that, somehow, this is more for He Tian than it is for him.

He pulls He Tian forward, and He Tian comes willingly.

He’s warm against Guan Shan's lips; always softer than he expects. There are hands coming to his waist, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt, resting on his hip bones and Guan Shan lets them, the lingering warmth from He Tian’s mug pressing into his skin and setting fire to his nerves. Guan Shan’s fingers slide into his hair and he pulls He Tian into him as they move against one another, a perfected rhythm for two, their mouths closed but then open, and Guan Shan can’t help the breathy sigh that escapes when He Tian moves forward, pushing him back, the sheets cool against the back of his neck as a wandering hand glides along his stomach.

They break apart for breath, inches away. Guan Shan can see the hardened glaze in He Tian’s eyes cracked. And when he drags his tongue over his lips, he can taste He Tian and chocolate: bitter and sweet and something he’ll surely get addicted to. Fingers inching along the jawline's defined edge, Guan Shan wonders if the skin on his throat will taste the same way. 

The thought is swept away. They come back together, open-mouthed and wanting—

And then there’s a long, piercing whine, and the bed shakes.

It’s a rude awakening. Guan Shan breaks away, a little breathless, and sees the dog only a foot from his face, front paws perched on the edge of the bed and head resting on the mattress. She blinks, brown eyes glittering. Halfway amused, Guan Shan exhales.

“Come on, then,” he says, and the last thing he sees is perked ears before He Tian is cursing, rolling away as he’s slammed with the small but energetic weight of the animal. There’s panting and bouncing and nails scratching his legs, and Guan Shan sits up on his elbows to witness the energy at work.

The dog’s tail thumps the mattress excitedly as she licks at He Tian’s hand before swiping her tongue along the underside of his jaw, and then scampers away to lay on the pillows. As He Tian wipes away the slobber with a scowl, Guan Shan smiles.

“That’ll be one hell of a dog in the shelter,” he says. He Tian shoots him a look.

“Until that energy gets her killed.”

“It’s not jail, He Tian.” He mulls that over. “Well, maybe.”

He Tian grunts an approval, and the two turn to watch the dog bury her head in the sheets, golden fur smooshed between the bed frame and the pillows. He Tian exhales and runs a hand through his hair. For all that He Tian is, the gesture is oddly human.

“I need to go to Cheng’s,” he says, almost reluctant, and Guan Shan looks at him. “You don't have to come. I want to ask him something. We can figure out what to do with it — her — afterwards.”

“Okay,” Guan Shan says, because that’s all he can say, and that’s all he thinks he should say.

But to his surprise, He Tian wets his lips, glances at the clock, and continues.

“And I’ll talk to you. Tomorrow. About this. About— her, but...” He exhales, long drawn and weak. “Not right now. It’s too long of a story, and I’m too tired.”

And that, Guan Shan thinks, is fair enough. That is what He Tian can give him, and that is what Guan Shan is willing to take. It’s an outstretched hand rarely offered, but it’s more than what they had five years ago. Longer.

Guan Shan sits up. Doesn’t move away when his knee presses against He Tian’s.

“Okay,” he says again. Okay.

And although the city never sleeps, He Tian and Guan Shan do, a bundle of warmth and a wet nose pressed against their legs. The mugs of hot chocolate grow cold beneath the dim glow of the lamp.

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally supposed to be part of the tianshan valentine week on tumblr (day 1 prompt: chocolate), but as you can tell, this was not very... valentine-y. still, it was so much fun to write once i accepted my insatiable urge to exploit the angst/trauma these boys endure. :)
> 
> yes, the dog was the same one he tian tried to save as a kid! and no, guan shan doesn't know anything about it (yet!)
> 
> if you enjoyed this, consider checking out my angsty, slow burn tianshan fic, [fire and the flood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250461/chapters/40567112)! and if you enjoyed this one shot, let me know! i _love_ hearing feedback, and i might consider doing the other tianshan week prompts if others seem to like this one!
> 
> thank you SO much for reading, and come talk to me on [tumblr](http://nightfayre.tumblr.com) any time!!


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